


A Threads in the Tapestry

by DaisyofGalaxy



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Post-Episode: s09e12 Hell Bent, Second Chances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 09:53:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6606385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisyofGalaxy/pseuds/DaisyofGalaxy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes six lingering months until she meets him again. Is it all a coincidence or a gentle nudge from the Universe? She can’t tell, but a part of her wishes that there is a greater plan for them- one that will always bring their tiny boats to the same haven, despite the challenges life throws their way. </p><p>A collection of the Doctor and Clara's meetings post-Hell Bent. One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Threads in the Tapestry

**Author's Note:**

> Just a tiny idea of mine.
> 
> I would be grateful for comments on the style used since it was my first attempt to use it and third attempt to write fanfiction overall.

 

**_N/A; Outer space_ **

It is still her first day without him. Everything seems very easy until the noises die away and all excitement loses its colours. Overwhelmed with nostalgia, she goes to her room and shuts herself away from the world.

She takes a seat on a fluffy carpet by a chest of drawers. Her tiny hands reach for the wrought handle and open the lowest of drawers. From beneath a thick layer of clothes, she retrieves an old green photo album. Her thin fingers skip through the first few pages and then freeze. She examines the next few photos as if her eyes have never seen them before.

These photos depict her and the Doctor, both current and the previous incarnation.

Sometimes it’s only the two of them. Sometimes they are among other people. Some of these memories are the best she ever had. Others memories she would rather forget. There is however one very important thing that links all these pics - Clara and the Doctor are always smiling at her from these pages.

She curls up and brings the photo album closer to her heart. One more day with him is all she wants and needs now. Tears are streaming down her face. She sobs in the darkness of her room, alone, deserted, grieving over a great loss she experienced just few hours earlier. She clenches her eyelids and tries to remember the happy silhouette she saw back then, in the diner. His smiling and hopeful stare is her consolation and a reminder of why amends needed to be made.

 

**_June 15, 1584; Murano; Earth_ **

It takes six lingering months until she meets him again. _Is it all a coincidence or a gentle nudge from the Universe?_ She can’t tell, but a part of her wishes that there is a greater plan for them- one that will always bring their tiny boats to the same haven, despite the challenges life throws their way. _After all, what were the chances of meeting the blue police phone box parked in the harbour of a glass-making village in 16_ _th_ _century Italy?_

They sit awkwardly next to each other by a huge wooden table in some empty of tavern., eating stone-baked tuna and drinking wine  They’re not entirely alone, Ashildr keeps them company, but it’s still more than anything she prayed for. He looks wholesome, maybe even gained a pound or two, she convinces herself as she gives him a good look. Holey jumper and checked trousers he wore quite often when they were still together are gone. She notices his trimmed curls, but that change doesn’t win her approval.

“You look good.” She says when their ways are about to part once again, rubbing her finger over a blue ring she bought from one of local glassmakers to remind her about today’s encounter.

“Thanks.” His chokes and grimaces in embarrassment.

 _What happened to them?_ _Why does it feel so weird to be around him?_ She asks herself as she closes the doors to the Tardis, leaving the colourful houses and her old friend behind.

 

**_March 18, 3101; Abandoned Mines of New Memphis_ **

“She saved your life. She deserved at least a simple _thanks_ , you idiot.” He whispers angrily under his breath when he is back in the Tardis, setting coordinates that would take him anywhere away from this place and the feeling of discouragement that in that moment doesn’t allow him to see anything else.

Just a few minutes earlier everything looked worse, much worse. He was stuck in the wreck of an abandoned spaceship, thousands of miles from the closest civilization and chance of rescue. Hopeless to live to see another sunrise, his mind started to prepare itself for the worst. The Universe however once again has different plans for him and sends her for him. The sound of her landing Tardis still rings in his ears.

He didn’t manage to figure out what brought her there and he can bet she isn’t sure either. The message is nevertheless clear- they may be done with each other, but the Universe isn’t yet done with them.

 

**_December 25, 3180; Silver Mountains Holiday Centre; Halergan Three_ **

Out of the vast number of festivals and holidays there is only one that makes all lonely people sad, the Doctor thinks as he sits at one of the tables in a posh restaurant and silently opens another, twentieth to be exact, cracker. He doesn’t understand why the Christmassy atmosphere is making him sad, in fact it isn’t even Christmas. Well it is, for the inhabitants of that place, but a time traveller year can consist of 365 Christmas days or do not contain any.

His eyes stare aimlessly at the cheerful people entering and leaving the decked restaurant. Some of them stop for a moment while they pass his table and wish him “Merry Christmas!”, but his own lips remain quiet. He is about to leave the crowded room and find someplace less depressing, when a familiar voice calls his name.

“What are you doing here?” He asks with surprise etched on his face as the woman with three zeros tattooed on the skin of her neck and her friend join him.

“Well, it’s Christmas according to my personal calendar, so we’re celebrating. First Christmas after the extraction.” Clara replies with a hint of sadness in her voice while an overdressed waiter takes their order - a roasted turkey that likely won’t taste even close to what they used to serve on Earth.

“And the largest bottle of bourbon you have, please?” She adds as her ears decode first notes of “Silent Night.”

 

**_April 2, 2018; Hope; United States; Earth_ **

Cyclical disappearances of inhabitants of a small, torpid town are a rather rare phenomenon, hence their meeting there is rather unsurprising.

“How are you?” She whispers in his direction when they finally have a brief moment for themselves. The conditions for conversation are far from perfect -a horde of bloodthirsty Krillitanes is following them through claustrophobic tunnels of local coal mine.

“Good, have been travelling a lot. What about you?” He manages to choke up before they have to run once more.

 

**_August 5, 1382; St Dominic’s Fair; Gdańsk; Earth_ **

He walks down the noisy street that smelled of roasted chestnuts and fresh mead when he notices a pair of familiar eyes in the crowd. Seeing her again has a sense of premonition and fluke to it- in fact, he can’t even recall what exactly made him land here in the first place.

Aimlessly, he crosses the crowded market and approaches her. Her reddened lips curl up into a tiny smile when she sees him moving in her direction. She reminds him of a nymph, in her emerald green dress and a colourful coronet of meadow flowers in her hair.

He spots a few gingerbreads wrapped in a thick paper she holds in her hand.

“Fancy one?” she proposes and passes him the aromatic sweetmeal. He nods and takes one of the brown hearts in his robust fingers.

“How are you doing?” he asks her shyly while they watch a performance of acrobats on one of the streets.

“Good, mostly,” she answers and drops few bronze dimes to an old hat lying in front of the performers on a cobblestone.  “Ashildr set rather fast pace of travel, but frankly it feels like the remedy for my problems.”

 

**_N/A; Great Desert of Karris_ **

“Your tea.” Clara says as she places a tray with a black porcelain teapot, two matching cups and a plate with few different kinds of biscuits. She sits down beside him then and watches him working on the engine of her machine with an interest in her eyes.

“Thank you.” He mumbles, completely busy with demanding task. “It looks like the soylent conduit is down and needs to be replaced. I should be done by evening.”

“Thanks for helping us.” She replies. Her grateful attitude is not a facade- without his help today they would be stuck in this desert land for Lord knows how long. “I know you’re not into social meetings and similar things, but my birthday is next week and I would love you to come.”

The blue waters of his eyes emerge from behind the machine. “What about the no orchestrated meetings policy?”

She looks down at him and nods. “Ashildr knows already. Besides it’s a huge anniversary.”

“Is it?”

“Yes.” She manages to choke up between giggles. “But don’t ask me how old I’m gonna be. It’s still not appreciated.”

 

**_February 10, 2017; Whitehaven; Scotland; Earth_ **

“May I see your documents once again, Agent Smith.” He hears a local sheriff saying as the woman tightens handcuffs around his wrists. “I had the pleasure to meet another person claiming to be sent here by M5. Would you mind an explanation?” Her voice is as cold as ice.

“And how do you know I’m the one who lies?” He tries to reason with the woman while she drags him down the narrow corridor. She orders him to wait patiently and reaches for the doorknob.

There are many thoughts floating his mind in this moment. His sly brain starts to prepare thousands of alibis that would help with getting rid of the uncomfortable _bracelets_ around his hands. Just when he is ready to continue his advocacy, he recognizes a familiar laughter coming from the room.

“You should see the look on your face!” Clara titters, “We totally scared you.”

“That wasn’t funny.” He whines, but her smiling face doesn’t allow him to be angry on her for long. “Hello, stranger.” He whispers into the fabric of her leather jacket as they hug.

 

**_September 26, 4410; “Thistle Holiday Centre”; Costa del Centauri_ **

After years of fruitless attempts to avoid each other, they finally give in.

It doesn’t change much -she still lives and travels with Ashildr and meets him only occasionally. Although, the thought that she can call him anytime or plan their time together seems to be a great improvement.

Early autumn of 4410 is a milestone for both of them. It’s the first time they’ve shared holidays. Only three days, as Ashildr asks them, but neither of them care. The fact there will be only the two of them is a great incentive. He chooses to rent a wooden cabin in the forests of Costa del Centauri, a place far away from turmoil of intergalactic battles.

“What’re you doing?” He asks her on the second day as he joins her at the shore of a golden pond decorating the plot of the holiday centre they were staying in.

“I practice ducks and drakes.” She replies while her fingers feel about the mossy ground and collect tiny pebbles.

He shakes his head while and watches patiently her hopeless attempt to throw the pebble correctly. He makes few steps and stands behind her - so closely she can almost feel his breath on her neck, and take one of the stones from her palm. “You do it wrong.” He explains to her as his skilful fingers demonstrate how to hold it properly. “Wrist movement is very important.” 

He shifts his hand swiftly and throws the smooth stone straight away. The stone however skews a little left and leaves a huge hole in a one of the windows of their cabin.

 

**_N/A; Outer Space_ **

He sits in his armchair in the console room with a pile of letters closed protectively in his trembling hands. He opens them one by one and reads every word with great care. Sadness and longing for Clara haunt him from these centuries-old pages. Before long, he can repeat their content by heart, despite the fact that he doesn’t remember writing them at all. But he knows the truth. The handwriting of his eleventh incarnation and the events which they mention, prove to him their authenticity. Having them is almost an irony. He found them hidden between books in the console room and cannot stop thinking how lucky he was Clara didn’t find them first - their sappy lines make him blush in embarrassment.

He sits motionlessly for a long moment, not sure what to do next. A part of him wants to fight for the miraculous friendship he reads about from the letters. _But would she want him back? With that face- no she likely wouldn’t._ He whispers in resignation as he puts the sheets back in the envelope he found them in.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.


End file.
